


Black Novacaine

by Zagamalli



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Broken Bones, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 03:23:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21154799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zagamalli/pseuds/Zagamalli
Summary: This has more chapters coming, but for some reason I can't add how many there will be, so there's gonna be about four!This fic was an idea of two songs I listened to, Novacaine by 10 Years and Beast in Black (by the band "beast in black")An author called Barbarosabee on here (and Tumblr) helped me with some bits and I recommend checking them out! Her writing is phenomenal!





	Black Novacaine

Arthur shakily pushed off of the muddy ground below, dirt sticking to the ebony fabric of his jeans, and crimson staining his teeth. Blood flowed from the new knife wound that decorated his already scarred chin. “That all you boys got?” He mocked, clutching his arm against the cash in his chest, pulling his own knife out of the sheath, black blade glistening in the light of the fading sun.

“Well come on then.” one odriscoll challenged, him and two others quickly approaching Arthur, blades in the grips of all three men. The lead o'driscoll lurched at Arthur, sending him stumbling back, ever so closer to the cliffedge behind. A second man inched closer, swinging the silver blade at the blonde man, only grazing his shirt as Arthur assaulted, the inky blade sinking into the speckled skin of one of the assailants, corpse sinking to the ground below.

An arm grappled from behind, wrapping around Arthur's jugular. It's grip tightened more with every passing second, an almond haired o'driscoll raised a knife above his head, forcing it down onto Arthur, the man kicking him back before it made contact with his bloody and bruised skin. Toppling back, he tripped over his feet, landing on a jagged rock that jutted out of the ground, painting the green a brilliant red. Bringing the knife back, Arthur thrusted it into the ribcage of the last o'driscoll, a bowl escaped his lips as he released the grip on Arthur's throat, stumbling off of the cliff face, plummeting to the forest floor below, the shriek piercing Arthur's ears, making his migraine worse than it was.

He almost felt bad for the man.

Twisting back the way he came, he spotted the butt of a rifle advancing towards his face, dunked in to darkness before he could react.

Agony erupted throughout the front of his skull, head throbbing in sync with his dramatically increased heart beat. "Where-" he groaned barely audible, each raspy breath pulling at the gash that spread on his chest. “Why hello there, Mr. Morgan.” Someone exclaimed, the familiar voice laced with venom. Sluggishly opening his eyes, Arthur noticed a figure in front of him, realization hitting him within seconds. "Hello, Colm." Arthur retorted, mindlessly tugging at the restraints that bound his neck and hands in place against the chilled stone wall he'd been forced to lean against. "I have big plans for you, Arthur," Colm snickered, crouching down to meet Arthur's level, his dull olive eyes brimming with hatred. The same hatred all those people on the streets had. The same hatred his father had after his mother passed from that dreadful disease.

"And what would that be?" Arthur challenged, a humorless chuckle filling the silence between the two. "Well now we have you. So when Van Der Linde gets a whiff that he caught his oh so loyal work horse, and comes here all fumin, I'll have the law waiting, getting myself some cash for your pathetic corpses." Colm stated, cackling while stood and sauntered over to the door ascending from the basement.

"Lucas." He ordered, motioning towards the man trussed up like a hog on the opposite wall. "Yes sir." Lucas complied, quickly stepping over to Arthur. "Sorry." Lucas chuckled, forcing a white rag around Arthur's nose and mouth, retiring to the land above, leaving Arthur alone to stir in the musty basement. 'Whats that smell?' He questioned himself, the sweet scent in his nostrils. Putting two and two together the realization hit him like a brick. Chloroform. 'Shit' he thought, trying to shake the rag off of his head, yet to no avail. Movements soon became sluggish, vision fading as he lulled off to sleep.

Smells of freshly cooked meats and vegetables wafted throughout the camp, various family members laughing at the wooden tables and campfires littered through the camp. Joy spread feverishly quick through the warm air, leaves from the nearby oak trees speckeling the royal blue and pearl colored sky. Arthur scanned the makeshift campground for leftover chores to work on. Split and splintered wood lay near the axe, maize already at Pearson's makeshift kitchen.

"Guess not." He mumbled to no one in particular, mostly himself. Spotting Lenny over by a table, leaned up against a wooden barrel, he figured he'd talk to him, it hasn't been long since that night in Valentine, but that doesn't mean he could remember it. Strolling over, he'd noticed Micah sauntering over as well, a smirk plastered upon his face.

"Hey, darkie." Micah taunted, idoling beside Lenny. "What you want, Micah?" The younger boy retorted, annoyance already coating his voice. "I found someone in Valentine looking for some… helpers." Micah mocked, the smirk growing even more. "Get the hell away from me." The younger one said, anger dripping from his tone. "The hell you just say to me, boy?" Micah growled, grabbing Lenny by his throat, hoisting him off the grass below.

Hooking the collar of Micah's shirt, Arthur tore him off Lenny, sending him stumbling backwards. "Stay the hell away from him." Arthur snarled, moving between Micah and Lenny. "Come on then, cowpoke." Micah challenged, a knife emerging from the sheath on his side, charging at the other man, Micah's weight slamming against Arthur as it knocked Arthur off balance, swiftly regaining footing as he swung at Micah, a crack erupting as a fist connected with his already crooked nose. “You bastard.” Micah snarled, swinging the knife at Arthur's chest, a bloody gash in its wake. A yelp escaped Arthur's lips, blood dripping down from the parted skin.

"Come on, you son of a bitch." Arthur taunted, malice and rancor dripping from his words. Micah lunged towards Arthur again, hand gripping on to the handle of the crimson covered blade. Dodging to the side, Micah crashed into the side of the wooden table, wood splintering, embedding itself within Micah's arm. Seizing ahold of Micah's arm, Arthur hastily thrusted his elbow onto it, the sickening crack of bone mixed with Micah's shriek.

A hand latched onto Arthur's shoulder, twisting him to face a fuming Dutch, face vived red from ear to ear with exasperation. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Dutch shouted, veins popping out of his neck, ignorant to the blood seeping through the fabric of the faded blue shirt. "Christ, Dutch, he tried to stab me!" Arthur exclaimed, trying to defend himself to his own father. Was Dutch really going to defend Micah over his own son? "He was defending himself!" Dutch screamed, getting closer to Arthur with every word. "And if you ever pull that shit again, I'll break your goddamn arm myself." He'd finally said, dangerously quiet.

For a second Arthur saw Lyle, the same threat coming out of Dutch's mouth as Lyle's when he caught Arthur stealing foot from the cupboard. Anger proceeded to bubble over, "Go to hell." Arthur snarled, immediately regretting the words the second they left his mouth. Disbelief flashed in Dutch's eyes, quickly changing to fury. "What did you just say to me, boy?" The older man gnarled, "You fucking heard me." Arthur snapped, limping over to Fenrir, ears perked curiously at all of the commotion.

A hand rested on Arthur's forearm, feeling strangely numb and distant. "Mr. Morgan-" "I'm fine." Arthur interjected. "You're bleeding," "Goddamnit, I'm fine." He snapped, clutching his arm to his chest, struggling to mount the friesian, turning the reigns to the outskirts of camp. "If you're going to keep acting like a damn child, don't come back!" Dutch shouted, Arthur desperately clinging to consciousness, the sound of Dutch's yelling drowned out by the pounding in his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> This has more chapters coming, but for some reason I can't add how many there will be, so there's gonna be about four! 
> 
> This fic was an idea of two songs I listened to, Novacaine by 10 Years and Beast in Black (by the band "beast in black") 
> 
> An author called Barbarosabee on here (and Tumblr) helped me with some bits and I recommend checking them out! Her writing is phenomenal!


End file.
